Apprentice
by Jalen Strix
Summary: Struggling singer Sarah Williams enacts her plan to become a legendary chanteuse after running across her former adversary at one of his side projects. A collection of episodes, built around a Labyrinth drabble of the same name. Humor and romance likely to make appearances as the inclination strikes, with the occasional dash of drama.
1. Contact

**Contact**

 _Sarah encounters Jareth and makes a deal._

* * *

 _"Do you want it?"_

 _I want it._

 _"Then you have to come and_ _ **take**_ _it."_

In my dreams, it's always Jareth's voice. He's officially my inner voice of determination and conquest. Trust me, the irony isn't lost on me either. Just a little subconscious bonus from my teenage otherwordly adventures, I guess.

I need all the help I can get really, from wherever it comes. My glittering vocal performance career is going exactly nowhere faster than a speeding bullet. I can usually get an audition of some kind by riding my mother's proverbial coat tails - the Williams name still has some cachet, and I look a hell of a lot like her (thanks for your genes, Mom). But then it's the same old tune - "a very fine voice, Sarah", "we'll keep you in mind, Sarah", etc, etc.

Let me tell you, "fine" is nothing special. In the real world, fine is tragically, pathetically different from special. And special is what makes stars.

I look at the stars out there, and I see what they can do to an audience. Things with their voice and eyes and that intangible charisma that makes you want to crawl towards them on your knees just to hear a little more. They make you _feel,_ whether you want to or not.

I want that so bad I can taste it every hour of every day. I can recognize it when I see it. But I don't know how to get to it myself.

That's probably why I find myself at hole-in-the-wall clubs like this one more often than not, trying to find inspiration. The singer tonight was supposed to be doing covers of David Bowie songs.

I smiled to myself as I waited for him to come on stage - David Bowie always reminds me of Jareth for obvious reasons. I don't know who borrowed inspiration from whom during the Thin White Duke stage, but even if they didn't already look somewhat alike, that alone would cement the resemblance.

I blinked as the lights dimmed to almost nothing and the singer coalesced onto the dais. For a heartbeat before he began, I honest-to-goodness prayed. _Please be amazing. Please show me the way._

Well, someone up there must have been listening because the singer began to _do things_ with his voice that scraped my insides right out. The lower notes rolled out with liquid grace, sending shivers shimmering just beneath my skin. The higher notes thrummed with heady power before tapering off with heart-rending delicacy. The spontaneous ornamentation was rich and effortless, a masterful waxing and waning that pulled emotions like taffy, sculpting them just so.

He was even better than Bowie, and that was a pretty blasphemous thought in and of itself.

When the house lights came up at the end of the first song, I nearly fell off my chair. But there was no mistaking it - it was _him_ , Jareth, the Goblin King. I'd know those supercilious patrician features anywhere, that cornsilk hair, that arrogant grace of movement. And whatever his faults, the man could _sing_. Somehow I'd forgotten.

My decision was unconscious and instantaneous. I had to make him teach me.

But what could I possibly offer in return to someone like him? Stories of immortal faerie beings swam in my head (all that fantasy reading was good for _something_ at last), and one thing emerged crystal sharp.

Well, it would have to do. Let's see if he'd bite.

* * *

After the show finished, I cornered him in the alley behind the club where the secret backstage door let out. I knew about it because I'd performed at this club too, but my Tori Amos covers didn't hold a candle to his Bowie covers, and that was a fact.

I blocked his way, refusing to let him pass me by.

He stood as still as death, waiting, the sense of him overwhelming in the narrow space. The man had presence in spades, and that was a fact, too.

But I was a girl on a mission, and no amount of preternatural charisma would move me. I lifted my chin. "I want you to teach me to do that."

He raised a mocking eyebrow. "And what might 'that' be?"

"To use your voice like a weapon."

His sudden interest was sharp as a scalpel. "Why should I?"

"Because I'm betting you're bored just now, and teaching me would be amusing as all hell to you."

A half-smile flickered at me. "You think I'm bored?"

I flicked a smile back at him. "You're doing Bowie covers in a no-name club in LA, so you're not in it for the money nor apparently the riotous adulation of the fans who would quite willingly throw themselves at your feet given half a chance. I'm betting you do it for the rush and pleasure of the performance itself." I heard the innuendo just after it escaped my mouth, and firmly clamped said mouth shut before it traipsed further into Dangerous Territory.

He noticed, his eyes flashing with a very masculine amusement. "Not into riotous adulation, am I?"

 _Get back on track, Williams._ "Not from them, anyway. Else you wouldn't be using The Hole to make your escape after."

Both eyebrows raised at that. "The Hole?"

I nodded at the backstage door behind him. "Typically reserved for disastrous performances and the subsequent avoidance of shame. Not your problem clearly."

That surprised a soft laugh from him. "Mmm. Clearly." He cocked his head to the side then, that avian tilt I remembered so well. "So you want me to teach you. What if you haven't the skill?"

"I'm betting I do."

"It's not merely vocal skill you need."

"I'm still betting I have what it takes."

There was a much more thorough scrutiny from him this time, a peeling away of layers of history and preconception that seemed to take an eternity.

I stood my ground, waiting.

At last, he blinked slowly, reaching a decision. "That you might." A certain unmistakable hunger was in his eyes. "And what would I get in return?"

I smiled wide. "To never be bored again."

His laughter drifted around us both, patronizing as hell. "A tall order. Never is a long time."

My lips twitched. "Not long at all. Try me. I'm young, impressionable, and yet decidedly full of cynicism. Very amusing to someone like you, I'd imagine."

Something lit behind his eyes at that. "I'm demanding beyond all reason."

"I'd expect nothing less."

He nodded. "Well then, I believe we have a deal, Miss Williams."

 _Holy shit, it actually worked._ I took a deep breath. "Excellent, Ja-...wait, what do I call you?"

His eyes glittered. "Supreme Lord and Master."

The hell I would. "Too long."

He cocked an eyebrow.

"If you insist on it, SLM will have to do, though I'll be the first to admit it _does_ sound rather silly." I smiled sweetly at his frozen expression. "I did say you'd never be bored."

"Mmm. Perhaps 'sir' will do for now."

Good enough. I bobbed my head and dropped a quick curtsy. "When do we start, _sir_?"

" _Insolent wretch_ ," he muttered. "Now's soon enough."

His gloved hand captured mind just before we both disappeared.


	2. Peachy

**Peachy**

 _Sarah gets a lesson on the precision of a vocal performance._

* * *

After fifteen minutes of silent and dutiful scrutiny, my patience gave out and I turned to face Jareth.

He slapped my wrist hard enough to smart, and I turned back to the object in front of us both with a grimace. "I'm sure your ways are inscrutable to mere mortals, sir, but why exactly am I staring at this peach besides the obvious irritation factor?"

"Because I told you to."

Seconds dribbled by. "Right...when can I stop, sir?"

His lips flickered up hummingbird-quick. "When you can recall the color changes perfectly, Ms. Williams."

"How will you know? I can't draw for shit, and words are inadequate to capture the golds and ochres and roses and blood reds. Sir."

"I'll know. Now hush and keep studying. And mind your language."

A few more minutes passed. "Why do I need to be able to recall the color changes so well, anyway? What does that have to do with singing, sir?"

"Shall I demonstrate for you, Ms. Williams?"

"If you'd be so kind, sir." I let the sarcasm simmer behind the polite words.

He was singularly unfazed. "Very well. Close your eyes."

He began to sing then, a song without words that tripped gracefully through notes that called up liquid golds and bright ochres, rustling subtly with rosy sweetness into luscious ruddy splendor. The balance was round and ripe, delicate softness contrasting with juicy richness that called to mind the peach with utter perfection.

When he finished, I opened my eyes and tried very hard to shut my mouth. At last, I managed a heartfelt "Holy _shit_ ".

He blinked slowly at me, one eyebrow raised.

"Sorry, holy shit, _sir._ "

His smile glittered with amusement. "Thank you, Ms. Williams. Now back to the peach and _do_ mind your language or you'll not be pleased with the consequences."

"Got it, sir."

"Good girl."

"Sir?" I didn't dare look away from the peach this time, but his vague encouragement surprised me given our interactions thus far.

"I've read that a mixture of reward and punishment is most effective for human learning. Enjoy it, Ms. Williams."

"Right, sir."


	3. Pissy

**Pissy**

 _Sarah gets a lesson in some of the less pleasant aspects of being an apprentice._

* * *

I let out a small scream of frustration as I discovered yet another goblin present hidden beyond the bounds of the latrine.

"Now, now, why so glum, Ms. Williams?"

Jareth's sudden presence made me inhale sharply, which I immediately regretted. The look I gave him was decidedly murderous.

He looked back, utterly unperturbed.

I exhaled shallowly, trying to keep the burning bile down. "I've been cleaning up goblin sh-... _effluvia_ for the past seven hours, sir." I sighed in disgust. "It's like they sneak in while my back is turned to leave yet more deposits where they shouldn't."

His lips twitched. "An unfortunate circumstance, true."

I heard the veiled laughter and glared at him in realization. "You told them to, didn't you?"

"I think the effect I intended has been admirably achieved, Ms. Williams."

"And what effect is _that_ , sir?"

"You seem far more careful with your language, and you've gained valuable experience."

"Don't tell me I need to know how to sing about...effluvia."

"A real singer needs to know how to sing everything."

I tried to imagine what possible use literally singing shit could have. _Well, it's certainly assault-worthy, and a voice is more portable than most weapons._ "Fine, but I don't need a demonstration of that just now." I caught his icy expression. " _Sir_."

The light in his eyes came back. "Very well, Ms. Williams." He turned to go.

"Uh, sir?"

"Mmm?"

"How much longer do I have to scrub the goblin latrines?"

He turned back to survey the room, catching the tail end of one goblin giggling as it fled the scene of the newest deposit. His lips twitched again. "I'd say one more thorough scrubbing ought to do it, Ms. Williams. See you at your lesson at five."

I grimaced as I followed his gaze. "Right, sir."

He drew near me suddenly, the sharp, overwhelming presence of him like salt and spice and unspoken promises. He sniffed experimentally. "And make sure you bathe before our lesson."

I stared at him for a heartbeat. "Sometimes I really hate you. Sir."

"Only sometimes? I must be getting soft."


	4. Adulation, part 1

**Adulation, Part 1**

 _Sarah gets a lesson in emotions of different kinds._

* * *

"Hold it….good. Now expand and release."

I burst the note like a sparkler, pushing my voice to follow Jareth's instructions as he moved around me, gauging the sound from different locations in the practice room.

"Did you like the way his eyes followed you?"

I yelped at the suddenness of his voice in my ear, stumbling forward slightly. "What? Who?"

"That delectable boy at the club last night."

I blushed furiously, remembering the tall, slender boy with the long, dark hair, aquiline nose, and exquisite light eyes. I'd always been a sucker for light eyes and that pair had smoldered at me the entire night. In between sets, he'd come up to me, introduced himself, and asked if I'd ever done any duets. Something about the resonance of his voice when he spoke rubbed across my skin in true shudder-worthy fashion. I just knew singing with him would be luscious. And lead to all kinds of other luscious things.

At that point, warning bells had gone decidedly a-ringing and I'd demurred, escaping out The Hole post-performance to avoid any more temptation.

The thing was, I'd had a pretty good feeling that Jareth wouldn't tolerate competitors for my attentions, even if our relationship was strictly platonic at the moment. Clearly, I'd been right. The tones that hung in Jareth's voice now were starting to make me weak in the knees in that Sweet-God-I'm-Sorry-For-Whatever-Also-You're-So-Hot-Right-Now-Aaaaaaaagggh kind of way.

Jareth hummed thoughtfully in my ear. "It's in your voice, you know. The lean shape of him, that bright-eyed intensity. Your desire for him."

I swallowed, scrambling for some kind of response that would get me out of the Deep Kimchi I'd vocally stepped in. "Well, sir, if I'm swayed by tall men with fierce eyes and resonant voices, I think we can attribute that to my impressionable fifteen-year-old self."

His lips stretched into a lazy smile. "Mmm. Flattery will get you nowhere, Ms. Williams."

I shrugged. "Just telling the truth, sir."

"I've a new assignment for you."

A sinking feeling hit me. "It involves that boy, doesn't it?"

Lions look at gazelles with that exact expression. "It does. You will draw him to you using what you feel for him."

My pulse thundered in my ears. "Sir?"

"And then you will break his heart."

I stared at him. "Why? Why break his heart? Isn't it enough to turn him away?"

"You need practice in cruelty. He's a convenient case study."

Something in me clenched at the unfairness of it. I _hated_ being cruel and my heart ached for the boy's devastation already. I lifted my chin, trying to hang onto neutrality. "What if I refuse to do it, sir? What then?"

"Well then, Ms. Williams, that would be rather _boring_ of you, wouldn't it? I believe our agreement is predicated on a lack of that precise quality."

Rat bastard. He really would cut me off quick as breath. My mouth shot off suddenly without me. "And this has nothing to do with you being jealous of him? _Sir_?"

His eyes flashed as he smiled wide. "And why should I be jealous of that little boy?"

I crossed my arms. "Really? You want me to say it?"

He arched an eyebrow.

I sighed. "Because you want all my romantic inclinations fixated firmly on you."

"Do I? Why would I want that?"

"You tell me. Besides the fact that you're egotistical and demand all the attention ever, whether you reciprocate it or not. Probably especially when you don't, just for added fun."

His lips twitched. "Well, as long as we've cleared that up, Ms. Williams. Your assignment still stands."

I threw up my arms. "You drive me nucking futs, sir."

"Mmm. They say the ones you care about most do that to you." He turned to go. "See you in a few hours, Ms. Williams. Wear something nice, hmmm? Don't want our boy to be disappointed now."

My jaw clenched. "Right, sir."


	5. Adulation, part 2

**Adulation, Part 2**

* * *

At the club, I was searching for the boy the second I stepped onto the stage. Hell, I'd been searching for him since we arrived at the place and saw the line gathered outside. My thoughts, in true contrary fashion, buzzed around the flame of the possibility of him. Awful, delicious possibility.

 _Please don't be here._ And then, in a fit of utter selfishness, _Please be here, beautiful boy. Let me look at you. Let me feel you looking at me._

* * *

I channeled Tori Amos like no one's business that night. "Precious Things" spooled out like quicksilver, and I _felt_ the audience's energy in my chest and fingertips, spinning in my brain, running behind my eyes and tongue. They rode with me, spiraling and cresting and plummeting, caught in my web of sound, needing me, begging me without words to _take_ them somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was with me.

It was better than sex, and that was a fact. I'd never felt anything like it. I wondered briefly if this was some of Jareth's faerie ways rubbing off on me or if it was simply what every true singer felt.

But then I was past the whooping surge of applause and into the aching simplicity of "Cruel".

" _I can be cruel, I don't know why…"_

There was no need to search for the boy. Our eyes were magnetized instantly, a shimmering siren line of possibility. _Listen to me, sweet boy, listen to what I'm telling you._

 _I am,_ his eyes told me. _Oh, how I am._

* * *

Unsurprisingly, he found me after the first set. "That was amazing." The words breathed out of him, heartfelt, needful. It was sunshine and sea salt, that adulation.

I wanted to bask in it so bad my teeth ached, my breath hitched, and my words stuttered out half-mangled. "Thank yo- I mean- it was-" I gave up on coherency. "I have to go prepare for my next set. See you later." And I fled.

 _Not good. Pull it together, Williams._ I glanced at Jareth as I swept into the tiny practice room in the back. _Nope, definitely not good._

"A bit tongue-tied, were you?"

The blush was fire against my cheeks. "So?"

"You're letting him control you. You're meant to control him, Ms. Williams."

I huffed out a breath, lassoing my self-control. "What if I can't?"

There was that lion smile again. "Ah, but I know you can. You merely need to _want_ to."

"You think I don't want to?"

"You want something else more at the moment."

"And that is?"

"To get lost in someone's absolute adulation. To let yourself go completely and ride it hard and deep." He leaned in close. "I understand the inclination."

My thoughts had already tripped and splatted at "ride it hard and deep".

Jareth's smile glittered between us as he grabbed my chin, lifting my face so we looked eye to eye. "You can put that into your voice, you know. In fact, you can hardly _not_. But you must always remember who's the master, Ms. Williams. Always. Yes?"

I swallowed hard. "Yes."

"Good girl." He released me and made a quick gesture of dismissal. "Now off you go. You have a set to prepare for."

 _Sent off like a damned dog._ I turned to go to the electronic piano, then whipped back to him, my jaw clenched.

"Yes, Ms. Williams?"

"If you pat me on the butt and offer me a treat, I'll end our arrangement. I don't care _who's_ the master. Sir."

His laughter cascaded down, heavy and golden, carrying amusement bright as dragonfire. "Duly noted. Now, why don't you try that refrain from 'Raspberry Swirl'?"

* * *

After my last set, I escaped out The Hole as per usual. I'd like to pretend I was surprised to see the boy waiting for me there, but really, c'mon. There'd been unspoken promises between us all night, every single damned song.

Jareth, perhaps unsurprisingly, had made himself scarce. Though still watching from _somewhere_. It wasn't in him not to see this firsthand.

And the boy...God, he was so beautiful, so _young_ in the alley lights. No more than twenty surely, and positively luminous with admiration and intent. We breathed in perfect synchrony, eyes locked, waiting for...well, for God knew what.

He began. "You were-"

I didn't bother to let him finish. I grabbed hold of him and kissed him with everything in me, the heat and the need and the fear and the ache, reckless beyond reckoning.

He kissed me back, just as fiercely. And I exulted in it. I couldn't, _didn't_ break away. It felt too good.

He drew back for a moment, our hands and legs touching and pulling and straining, our inhalations and exhalations still so beautifully synchronized.

"What you did in there with your voice, it was-"

I put my finger against his lips. "Shhh, not now." I drew him to me again, pouring myself into him, the length of our bodies on collective fire.

He broke for a breath. "My place is close."

"Good." I didn't know if Jareth would be watching there, too. Probably. At that moment, I didn't care. "Let's go."

* * *

Even if Jareth wasn't watching (and somehow, _somehow_ he had to be, I just knew it), even without him physically there, he _was_ there. In my head, in my attitude, in my decisions, guiding my dominance over the entire interaction. It was intoxicating to have that power, make no mistake.

It was, shall we say, a _very_ satisfying night all around. I thought briefly of slipping out before true morning hit. But then the boy - dammit, his name was _Samuel._ We'd had unbelievably glorious sex multiple times, so I could at least use his name. _Samuel_ dragged his lovely golden-skinned foot against mine, tangled in the sheets, and those beautiful light eyes blinked sleepily at me before he murmured, "You're so incredible." And then he draped his arm over me and he was so warm against me, the sunlight scent of him layered on top of me and inside of me.

I didn't have the strength to leave. The more fool me.

* * *

Back at the proverbial ranch later that day, I figured there'd be repercussions. I just didn't know what kind. I entered the practice room and braced myself.

Jareth's fingers drummed slowly together above the piano keys. "Going for a longer game, are you? Much more exciting, of course. Not boring at all."

Hell. He was amused. And I admit it, a part of me was resentful that there wasn't a bit more jealousy there. Stupid self. "Can we just do the lesson now, sir?"

His lion smile surfaced. "Who says we aren't, Ms. Williams?"

"Fine, the _singing_ lesson."

"And I repeat, Ms. Williams: who says we aren't?"

I glared at him. It rolled right off.

"Now then, since you've got a lovely emotional tempest brewing inside you, let's see if you can channel that appropriately. Breathe in."

I breathed.

"Your glare's interfering. Relax your features and _breathe,_ Ms. Williams."

The glimmer in my eye remained murderous as I loosed the tension from my face with an effort of will that likely stole years from my life. I breathed.

"Good. Now sing out an A for me, and make me hurt with it."

I blinked hard in confusion.

"I'm waiting, Ms. Williams."

 _You asked for it._ I let out that A, and I poured molten need and stabbing rage into it. It felt like the fires of hell coming out of me, and I wanted it to hurt Jareth like a sonovabitch.

He staggered against the onslaught, and closed his eyes.

I smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. I finished my A with a vicious little decrescendo, and waited. There was surely going to be hell to pay now, but damn, it'd been worth it.

Jareth opened his eyes and breathed deeply. His lips flicked up in a half-smile that managed to look...satiated. "That was well done, Ms. Williams."

I blinked. "I'm...glad you think so."

"Indeed. We shall spend the rest of today's lesson practicing that infusion across different chords." He sat down and played an A minor on the piano. "This time, use the different notes for additional color and layer something else on top. Something to complement that lovely crimson fury."

I looked at him for a heartbeat, then sighed. "You're impervious to everything, aren't you, sir?"

He smiled wide, his eyes flashing with something akin to eagerness. "We'll find out, won't we?" He played the A minor chord again.

My heart sped up. Oh, there was _interest_ there alright. "Right, sir."


	6. Adulation, part 3

**Adulation, Part 3**

* * *

It had been weeks since I'd been seeing Samuel. I'd met his friends. I'd begun teaching him some of what I was learning from Jareth.

And no, he and Jareth had _not_ met. Because that way lay certain Doom.

Still, Doom was on its merry way. After all, I had an assignment from His Royal Viciousness.

It happened after a rather...invigorating lesson that left us both breathless for different reasons. Me from holding out notes for epic lengths of time, and Jareth from watching me master my inclination to pass out from it. He was proud of me, the paternal bastard, which meant he wanted to keep me. Which meant I couldn't be boring, etc, etc. Stupid assignment. Stupid arrangement. Stupid everything.

Jareth tilted his head to the side from his place at the piano, holding me in his unblinking sight for far too long. "An ending is coming, Ms. Williams. The choice of what ending it is...well, that's for you to decide. Which you will do by nightfall."

Hellooooo, Doom.

* * *

A line from "Winter _"_ looped endlessly in my thoughts all afternoon: _They say that things chaaaaaaange...my dear._ Tori Amos had that right, that was for damned sure.

Nightfall crashed around me like a speeding locomotive, and at this point, there were exactly two ways forward that I could see.

Option one: Stay with Samuel, end things with Jareth. It'd be so easy. Samuel and I would create beautiful things together - beautiful songs, a beautiful life. He was a bit younger than me, true, but did it matter? He adored me, _loved_ me in a way that heated me down to my toes at the very thought. And we could be a force to be reckoned with in the musical world. All I had to do was lead us.

Option two: Break it off (cruelly - never forget _that_ part, break it off cruelly) with Samuel, so I could keep Jareth. Leave Samuel crushed with self-doubt, broken for God knows how long, that idealistic, hopeful spark gone forever. But I'd have my maestro, who could lead me to unspeakable heights. Everything worthwhile I knew about music had come from Jareth...every last damned thing. And I could keep that propensity for earth-shattering greatness. All it would cost me is who I thought I was.

Choices, choices.

* * *

In the end, it had less to do with me than I thought. I simply couldn't do that to Samuel. Not for something so selfish and lonely as this.

Jareth perched across from me on a stool the same height as mine, waiting.

I raised my eyes and opened my mouth to speak.

"Stop." His voice held an all-too-familiar cadence, his hand lifted just so.

I smiled bitterly. "Why, you've got dreams to offer, sir? Trust me, I know."

I saw an echo of my own smile on his face before he caressed my cheek with shocking intimacy. "Mmm, but don't you want to know whose?"

My eyes widened. "Sir?"

"Stay with me, Ms. Williams." His words were soft with promise as his fingers slid across my skin. "We have such magnificent things to do together."

I felt tears sting at my eyes. I wanted what he promised so damned badly. But not badly enough. "I won't be cruel to Samuel."

His gentle laughter rolled through me like a velvet kiss. "Were those the terms of the assignment?"

I shivered, trying to remember the exact wording. Ah, there it was. "You told me to break his heart."

"Mmm. I should think that should be rather simple to accomplish no matter what you do at this point. So be kind, if you think you can, but stay here with me." He drew close until our lips were a breath apart. The glittering heat of him, the dragon scent of him, was overwhelming, intoxicating, and splendidly dangerous. "Choose me, Ms. Williams. Choose _us_."

Samuel didn't stand a chance.

* * *

In the end, I went for the direct approach. Every last thing I told Samuel was true - I committed only sins of omission. I was, in fact, in intense training with a demanding teacher who required my attention to be less divided. It wasn't necessarily forever, but it was definitely for the extended now. Samuel deserved someone who could be with him fully.

Samuel, quite sensibly, told me he could make up his own damned mind about _that_ , thank you very much. But if I was determined to break it off, well, he couldn't stop me.

He was all too right about that.

"Samuel, I'm so, so sorry."

"I know." Those beautiful light eyes held a storm as he turned away from me. "Now, please get the hell out."

I nodded, turned on my heel, and walked out the door.

* * *

"You really dislike cruelty, Ms. Williams." Jareth's voice curled from just behind me in the practice room, soft with detached interest. "That was likely the kindest thing you could have done for him."

I pursed my lips, still aching. There'd be a Samuel-shaped hole in me for the foreseeable future and it hurt right now like a sonovabitch.

"I wonder if you'll be as kind with me?"

My eyes riveted to Jareth's, my nostrils flaring in sudden inhalation. _That's right, remind me why I hurt like this_. "Wouldn't want you to be bored now, sir."

"No, indeed. That's why I enjoy you so."

Patronizing bastard. "Good to bloody well know."

"Language, Ms. Williams."

"I'll take latrine duty. I can't sing right now for shit anyway."

"Ah, but I think you should. Which is why I'll overlook your linguistic transgressions. This set of emotions doesn't come along every day, and we've got to explore it while we can."

I stared at him. "Fuck you, Jareth."

He smiled, unaccountably pleased. "Mmm. That particular one's more common between us, though." He rolled out an E minor chord. "Let's focus on the others, shall we?"


End file.
